Sipping Soup Surrounded by Autumn Leaves

Thanksgiving. A holiday filled with family, food, laughter, and most of all, lots and lots of pumpkin. Fresh pumpkins lining the tops of tables and mantles, or puréed and cooked pumpkin with maple and spice and baked in the form of pies, cheesecakes, tarts, or all three laid down the centre of an extended dining table in between decorative pumpkins, surrounded by black corn and autumn's leaves.

I spent this past thanksgiving weekend back on Bowen, and the better part of two days travelling from one island to the next, via the mainland, during which I spent most of my time thinking about what it would be like back on the island where I grew up, and back in my friends familiar house, but unable to quickly pop up the hill to where we used to live. I also spent the better part of the ferry rides gazing out the window to where I thought Bowen was, terrified. Terrified of how different it would seem, and how it would feel to be among everything so familiar but changed myself with living in a new place, new people, and most of all, a completely new routine to run by. 

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Picking Apples for Baked Chicken Dinners

The best thing about today was hanging from branches with my back hunched over and my hands reaching up and behind to find the biggest, juiciest, and highest up apples in the tree. On our third  walk of the day, after sitting out in a sunny field with a few ripples of wind in our hair and hot fruit tea in glass jars to warm up after a classic picnic of sandwiches with goats cheese and cucumber, we wandered the trails to see where dad had found an open beach where he had often spent evenings after work, looking out at the mountains across an ocean that separates Canada and the United States.

After almost falling, and with small burrs on my sweater and dried apple leaves tangled in my hair, mum and I left the park with apples tucked away in every pocket and filling our hands. Beautiful, crunchy apples, some softly hinted green and yellow, and others a bright yellow that we had snagged from the trees before the bears in the area had them when they all fell to the ground. Evidence of bears lingered by their smell around the marshes and under the trees. There were apples left on higher branches, out of reach, that we imagined grasping with our hands, or biting into the sweet juices of the apples with every bite. It made us envious of the birds, ones so easily able to reach the well-sunned fruits, that would be enjoying the delicious flavours much sooner than we ever would. And so we joked that next time, we would be the ones carrying a tall ladder down the trail, to manoeuvre it through the twists and turns of the path, and finally to where there were full apple trees. 

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Curiosity, Courage, and Chicken Pot Pies

Wrapped up in a cosy green, a colour which covers all the walls in this house, and symbolises the growth and rejuvenation it once stood for, and perhaps brings to us as well, I sipped a hot ginger and lemon tea and read a book beside the trails of rain streaming down the windows. Through a storm we spent huddled on our big couch or behind a pair of binoculars trying to spot the first white caps thundering into the harbour. Behind thick lenses we could see a brave fisherman in the wind, and the train of seagulls behind the boat as his crab traps were pulled up from under the waves. It was wonderful to feel so at home behind the front of a big storm rolling in, and the cups of tea held between our hands, or hot plates for dinner, kept us feeling comforted and warm. 

Perhaps it's just the cold left behind from a busy weekend of showing my friends some of my favourite places here while they visited, including a full bakery breakfast and some gluten free French toast for me, as well as a trip to Victoria in the pouring rain, but I've found having so much time difficult at the moment. Maybe it's also that we've been here a month now, and we really are settling in, I mean mum's getting movie suggestions from ladies at the grocery store checkout and we actually recognise people on our daily walks ("he was here yesterday," mum will whisper to me, or I'll wonder where the tall guy was as we come back around the beach). Especially underneath the patter of the continuous and comforting sounds of rain, and left dependant on ginger teas and Tylenol, as well as warming dinners such as home made chilli and steaming chicken pot pies, I almost feel restless to get out and explore, and finally find a foothold in this new town, among new people, and to step there to begin a climb into the unknown.

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Cashew Caress in a Spinach-y Hug

It has been a lazy weekend. Out in the forest on the western shore snug in warm vests around a camp fire, it was the kind of weekend where we took long walks and read our books in the warmth of a thick fog down at the beach. Sand stretched into rocks which stretched out and under slow, crashing waves, which seemed to come from a white blanket of cloud hovering just far enough to give us the beach to rest, and to play.

The major moment of our days camping was building and lighting a fire for the evening. It took most of our attention, and all of our efforts. It was then around the roaring flames giving off both heat and light that we could sit and watch the cascades of dancing light around the trees. We had sticks for roasting marshmallows, and after a disappointing first gluten free s'more which I described as only worth it if you intended on giving your jaw a workout while trying to chew the two home made gluten free Graham crackers sandwiching a perfectly toasted marshmallow and a small square of chocolate. Appalled, I stuck them straight in the waste. I would have liked to at least given them a second life, but being too chewy and tough, I couldn't think of a better place for them.

I was instead comforted by the leftover chocolate, if marshmallows go hand in hand Graham crackers, then chocolate slips so easily into mine.
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Wrapped Up Falafel and Pita Style

 

Last nights dinner, warm home made kale falafels on top of fresh greens and slices of tomatoes from the farm, with a bed of piping hot pita breads straight from the oven, was the perfect end to a hot day that suddenly turned when the fog set in the bay, and a breeze swept up any leaves that tittered around the front deck. Dancing feet outside our open doors were fluttered away in one strong gust, and just the squeals of an open door caught up in the wind could be heard. I set to baking early in the afternoon, and with my chin resting on my hands, staring at this bunch of fresh kale, there was a separate whirlwind of thoughts, recipes, and ideas for the luscious green vegetable. The fresh kale from a nearby farm was how falafels became something else, a whole new flavour was added, as well as intrigue, and falafels were taken up a notch.

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Out of City Sounds

After a weekend spent outside of Montréal city, just beyond the busy highways and buzz of traffic, workers travelling along the roads in tooting cars and the swish of bicycle tires speeding past, with the noise of construction always just an earshot away, I suddenly miss the slow pace of living on an island, or at least beside the ocean, next to the beach where we'll go for an entire afternoon, waves lapping against the shore as the only backdrop of sound, or nearby some quiet and shadowed trails where underneath the tall, leaning arches of old evergreens, you feel protected and somehow in your own little world, as if any big city doesn't exist for the moment, and in your own world you can pretend whatever you like. Here, back in my sister's apartment, through the windows that are left open to let in some fresh air, the constant hum of machines outside also finds its way in, drilling and pounding from the moment I wake up, to the background of the radio podcast playing that it becomes, or as a replacement for the poignant sounds of the kettle or microwave that when I'm at home, and there's no other sounds to compete, are sharp clicks so surprising rather than a dull change in what I can hear around.  

We spent the weekend at one of my sister's friends house, among her three horses and paddocks around the house, plus the three cats who knew of the relaxing weekend ahead, and lazed about on any chair they could steal, and finally her two Bernese mountain dogs, excited and full of energy with every new person or movement made. I was in heaven with all the animals, but again, it made me miss my dog even more. Beside the pool, and between the outdoor bar, we sat around in the sun, barbecued chicken and sausages, and stayed up beside the roaring campfire underneath stars, little twinkles of light that aren't often seen in a city when lights cascade outward and block the little white stars from being seen. 

Her house was also filled with gluten free foods, she being gluten intolerant herself, and so as soon as we arrived we enjoyed gluten free pasta, and I shared the gluten free brownies I had made, as well as a comfort and relaxation in knowing things, food-wise, were taken care of. It was lovely spending time at someone else's house without the constant nudge of being alert if they might forget, handing you a plate of pizza and saying, "don't worry it's whole wheat," or not understanding that beer is in fact made from wheat either, replying to your decline of a cookie with a sad sort of frown. Rather, dinner that night included gluten free sausages and plenty of chicken, and the next day, a late Sunday barbecued breakfast of toast and bacon that also included enough gluten free bread for the two of us. After a late night, all of us around the outdoor table ate in large mouthfuls between recounting sitting around the camp fire, or jumping in the pool, and when I was picked up and thrown in first. 

As much as I love wandering Montréal, poking in to shops, the relaxed drinking regulations, enjoying chocolate desserts with my sister at Cocoa 70, or spending a day like today wandering into a basement coffee shop for some chai tea beside an old brick lined window, the sounds of construction each morning leave me a little restless, and the neighbouring building jumps a little closer as well. Laying on the deck chairs yesterday, the sun a welcome heat and a gentle wind blowing across us just when it became too hot, the squirt of the pond fountain in the background, I could almost remember long summer days last year on the beach, and taking my scooter round with friends to spend a day beside the ocean. 

Just after the last run on the little yellow go-cart, speeding down the gravel lane and quickly turning back before passing the neighbours paddock, without breaks to slow down, and climbing through the fence to see the three horses left to graze peacefully in the front, we set about making pizzas on the oven pizza round that had been heating up while we were outside. Taking turns pressing down on the gas and seeing how fast the go-cart would go, and sometimes leaving curving tracks in the lane, time had passed by quickly in a summer's lazy way. Bringing out gluten free pizza bases for everyone, we dressed them up with tomato sauce and mozzarella, adding boccincini and fresh basil from the garden, as well as olives, tomatoes, and pepperoni slices. With simple, fresh, and delicious ingredients, plus a flatbread-style crust, the pizzas came out hot, but were still devoured quickly as the flavours couldn't keep hungry mouths away, and even after the first slice, each new piece with a slight variation in toppings tasted as good as the first. It always seems that the freshest ingredients, or the simplest of meals, with few items needed, but always made using whole food, always taste the most delicious, with the best flavour, and will always leave you feeling much better afterwards. None of that greasy pizza after taste, like when they served hot lunch during elementary school, but using local and real ingredients, a pizza is a healthy and easy meal.

Caramelised Onion and Goats Cheese Pizza {with Recipe for Dough}

{print me here}

When looking for a gluten free pizza dough without the long rising time of yeast, or the trivial mixing of flours to create the perfect blend, all the while wondering if it will actually work, there's always this simple, quick, and delicious gluten free dough, that can be layered with any choice of toppings (but I will show you our fave!) and even rises to give that soft and chewy bite.

If you aren't in the mood for pizzas, or plan on entertaining friends, roll out the dough into smaller rounds or squares onto a baking sheet, which can then be eaten individual as mini flatbreads, and will even be perfect for dipping into balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

{Ingredients:}

Dough:

2/3 cup sweet rice flour

1/3 cup corn flour

1/3 cup sorghum flour

1/3 cup tapioca flour

1/3 cup arrowroot starch

1 teaspoon guar gum

1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 whole egg, plus 1 egg white 

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/4 cup milk

1/2 cup to 3/4 cup warm water

Toppings:

1/2 cup caramelised onions, recipe below

8 to 12 stalks of asparagus

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 teaspoon garlic salt

1 tablespoon olive oil

Sliced kalamata olives

Sliced sun dried tomatoes

Large handful of fresh baby spinach leaves, stalks removed

Goats cheese

{Directions:}

Start by caramelising the onions, and set aside. 

Preheat the oven to 425°F and coat a round pizza pan with olive oil. In a large bowl combine together the flours, and mix well.

Beat together the egg, egg white, olive oil and milk. Slowly pour into the flour mixture, and stir well. This can also be done using a food processor, which will quickly blend together the ingredients, and form a nice smooth dough. Slowly add in the warm water, quarter cup by quarter cup, until the dough begins to come together and form a round ball. It should be quite sticky, so at this point to avoid dough sticking to your hands rather than to itself, coat your hands in water, and then rub with oil.

Flatten out the dough onto the pizza pan, evening spreading across, applying more oil to your hands off necessary. Cook in the centre of the oven for 15 minutes.

In a small rimmed baking sheet, combine together the lemon juice, garlic salt and olive oil. Toss together with trimmed asparagus stalks, and place in the oven, at the same temperature, for 8 to 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, line the pizza base with caramelised onions, and add the asparagus stalks straight from the oven, disregard the juices. Bake for a further 4 minutes.

Top with the kalamata olives and sun dried tomatoes, then scatter the baby spinach leaves evenly over top. Bake for another 4 to 6 minutes, or until the dough it completely cooked through. 

Finally, add rounds of goats cheese on top, and place back in the oven until it is melted and the edges begin to brown slightly, approximately another 4 to 6 minutes.

Allow to cool slightly before slicing and serving!

Maple Caramelised Onions

{print me here}

For bringing out the sweet taste in onions, the process of cooking slowly over low stove top temperatures does just the trick. Adding in a little brown sugar, and you've got that rich, delicate flavour that can honestly be paired with just about anything. On top of pizzas, caramelised onions can provide the base layer, a delicious texture and savour to add both a new flavour and amazing combination with other toppings.

{Ingredients:}

1 tablespoon grape seed oil, olive oil can also be used

4 cups white onions, sliced 

1/2 cup water

2 tablespoons maple syrup

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

{Directions:}

Heat oil in a large pan over medium stovetop heat. Add in the onions and water, cooking until the onions are completely tender, caramelized and golden, about 40 to 50 minutes. Add more water if needed. 

Stir in the maple syrup and balsamic vinegar, and cook until most of the liquid has disappeared, about another 5 to 6 minutes. 

Remove from the heat, let cool, and serve on pizzas, crackers or toast, or store the rest in a tight lidded jar!

Slipping Into Montreal

After a full five weeks in Rivière-du-Loup, all the memories, friendships, and moments we'll never forget, plus the connections and appreciation for French and Quebec culture made, I am tucked in bed in my sister's Montreal apartment. Beside me, a plate of freshly baked gluten free chocolate chip cookies, and a hot mug of licorice herbal tea. Curled up and tired from the last two nights with my Rivière family, many hugs and tears from those around as well as lots of chatting and laughter in recounting the time shared. I look forward to spending time exploring a new part of Quebec, seeing the city of Montreal, and spending time with my sister, while also having more moments like this, and more moments to relax, cook, laugh, and celebrate summer.

And so beside a fan spinning beside us, and sounds from the streets winding up every now and then, my sister and I, and one of her friends who came to visit for the day, chatted and shared some of the recent moments just passed. I had only just come off the train that morning, sleeping with an eye pillow and blanket across two seats as the train ran from Rivière-du-Loup to Montreal in the early morning, and so we sat around plates of gluten free waffles and tea, served with delicious maple syrup and sprinkled with icing sugar. 

There were also bowls of fresh cherries, blueberries and chopped cantaloupe, a delicious change from bland and tasteless cafeteria fruit. Instead, a burst of flavour and juice with each bite, the tartness complemented with the sweetness of maple syrup and icing, and overtop a warm and comforting waffle. It was the perfect breakfast after a night of travelling, and even at one in the afternoon, a welcome change to breakfasts after five weeks with little more than fruit, peanut butter and yoghurt each morning.

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Spin It Around Again

Do you remember when it was enough to spin in constant circles on a grassy field, the open sky extending forever around you, the trees blurring in a deep green and forming a comforting wall around you? Do you remember those afternoons, or under an expansive array of stars, when you would spin around and around to create your own thrill and enjoyment in having everything around you in complete and utter chaos. Remember how exhilarating it was once you stopped spinning, but everything around remained in constant motion?

That was before our minds began to spin on their own. 

Before things around us moved in their own paths, and before we lost the innocence of being completely unaware of this strange force propelling changes. 

As I begin to learn again that these changes, and this constant movement, is something everyone must learn to live with, and instead of trying to rein it in with control (and a lot of struggle), we learn to make the most out of every situation while enjoying the most of the moment. Even if the glass does fall to the ground as you lean to take a sip, the face of your friend as she leant to grab it only too late, was damn funny. 

Even if the dance they held for us here was no fun, with everyone standing in small groups, we can still spin. Spin to change how we see it, and spin to change our perspective of it. 

And then we also played duck, duck, goose, right there in the middle. Really, it wasn't a bad night. 

The kitchen staff have also began to put their own spin on my gluten free meals as well, becoming a little more creative with ingredients and dishes than the staple of gluten free pasta for meal after meal. It makes other students jealous, when they're served corndogs... And I come out of the kitchen with a breakfast sandwich. Complete with an egg and tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and in between two slices of slightly toasted gluten free bread. 

I feel bad that I've recieved a little extra care and attention at meals, especially when it comes to the bad cafeteria meals that are sometimes cooked in mass trays and served without delicacy, but I appreciate it all the more. 

À bientôt mes chers amis!

xx S

Colours of Our Dinner

And the sun has finally reemerged from behind a sky filled with clouds, and the warmth heats up the deck for sitting out with a cool glass of lemonade, and its finally warm enough to plan trips out on my friend's boat this weekend. Having lunch up at the cafes seems more of a social event, with walkers and their dogs chatting to each and every person to say their hellos, and the patio fills up with lunchtime guests - all of which who are eager to enjoy as much sun, and as much jovial conversation, as possible.

This week, mum and I have had a little more energy to cook delicious meals for dinner with less early
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This West Coast Living

For Dad's birthday: a West Coast feast of Mussels

I've always sort of complained about living on an island and travelling to school everyday: the ferry, and the commute which entails, plus all those missed sailings that leave you waiting, or worse, stranded after the last boat of the day to Bowen disappears around the corner. There's also the effort and planning involved in going to town for the day, or even just to pick something up from a store which would normally only take 10 minutes. (Some might argue that kids from Bowen have an exceptional sense of time and organisation - I'll add that it's necessity rather than choice.) Add in the time for busing and you'll be home at 8 tonight, tell your teacher you can't come before school tomorrow either, unless you want to get up at 5 am. However, that isn't the point of this post. I wanted to take the time to share a moment of appreciation I had today for where I live, and the amazing opportunities I've enjoyed growing up in such a rural, carefree environment. From the moment when we could walk and play, I was outside, exploring the tunnels of trees and ferns that made up our backyard, which seemed to expand across the whole island. It wasn't until I turned seven that I remember realising our backyard only made up one part of a whole neighborhood of houses each with their own backyards. Which meant more trees to explore, more trails to map out, and wearing our exploring hats and holding fake cameras to capture our adventures, we made our way quietly - so as not to disturb the wonders of the trees, we loved to imagine a whole community of fairies hidden away among the branches and beneath the underbrush of the forest - and eventually found the perfect site to set up a wooden fort. Collecting large sticks and fallen branches to build our own camp, each new place became somewhere to play for hours. 

There was also the great big rope swing that was strung between two trees, one that I only ever swung on once before bulldozers moved in, and as quickly as the trees came down, as well as the forts of kids and evidence of their alternate worlds, houses were built up maximising the space that was once an entire planet still being explored to kids. 

It seems there is always a battle between nature and the destruction of machines. Not so literally as science-fiction might suggest, but the great bodies of orange bulldozers are always the first sign of trees to fall, dirt to be picked up and moved by the ton, and a whole new façade for the area. I remember along the Cape Roger Curtis coastline a few years ago, an area which has undergone a huge development, bulldozers were the first to show up, and since then have marked the continuing changes occurring and those to come. Lots have been cordoned off with fences and signs pushing the public out of areas we we've always had free range to explore, and the areas we've had to play camouflage and hide-and-seek on our walks with visiting relatives have now become shadows of the newest house, or somewhere beneath the newly paved road across the bed of what was once a seasonal stream.

And now, as houses are slowly being constructed with optimal views, the path which long-time residents of Bowen have always enjoyed has been squished into a thin and controlled line along the coast, with fenced hedges along either side. It is unclear whether the fences are to protect the plants from hungry deer (the grass and ferns which they once fed on bulldozed into piles of dirt), or to deter people from damaging the hedges in a fight of protest. A sense of distrust between both groups that was established from the onset of the project.

Mum and I walked along this path today, one that has become even more popular as more and more people come to see the changes that have undergone as million dollar lots are purchased, and we noted the slow integration of pieces of construction into each lot, perhaps in hope that the public will fail to notice, and their private dock will pass through council so they can travel to their summer cottage without being forced to ride the ferry, and meet the people who have grown up and seen all the changes that money and a sense of entitlement or power that often goes along with it which has been brought to the island. 

We used to walk down this path as kids, with our parents and their backpacks that held food for a picnic, and if we were planning on making a day out of it, matches and paper for a fire on the beach. Today, people are still trying to claim the beach as a public space, and in the middle of a circle of arranged logs was a fire pit made from rocks set above the high tide line to keep it on the beach until someone, disgruntled by trespassers, dismantled it. This reminded me of days we would spend at the lighthouse of the Cape, paddling in the rock pools looking for starfish and sea snails, and building rock forts for nature dolls that my sister would sometimes make out of mosses and sticks, and for hair, 'old man's beard.' Our parents would always have a large thermos of fruity tea, and passing around the flask we would warm up before dashing out after only just finishing a cheese sandwich. There were days when we would miss the beach completely after getting caught up in games among the trees, spending hours playing hide-and-seek, or running through the ferns and trails so caught up in the excitement. 

It's sad to see the coastline completely changed, transformed from the wilderness I remember from my childhood, and molded into someone else's perfected ideal of how nature can be controlled. Advertisements for the area, videos of the coast and the 'natural beauty' of the properties including wildlife and the untouched landscape, reflect a peaceful coast, but as buyers bring in supplies and ideas for building, that serenity quickly becomes past, and changes to the natural ecosystem as our neighborhood once saw when I was seven, leaves the coast and the area just like any other human settlement. With each additional property, and each new home built, it becomes more and more urbanised, a sterilized version of nature, manicured to banish the 'wild' out of wilderness.

I'd like to share a recipe for a west coast favourite, and along the Cape Roger Curtis rocks, the main ingredient can be found, growing in great expanse, and before the waste of many residents spoils the availability of these, they can be harvested and cooked fairly quickly - a delicious seafood dish. Mussels have always been a favourite of mine, and I suppose with living on an island, or near the sea, I've developed a taste for the salty taste of any seafood. It may as well be one of my favourite's, although we don't usually take mussels straight from the rocks. It can be done, and with enough knowledge about which mussels are good to eat, I bet they'd be delicious. Using store-bought or mussels straight from the sea, or even from a local fisherman who knows the rocks well, seafood feasts are great for weekend dinners, parties, and tasty treats.

Mussels in White Wine and Cream Sauce

{Print me here}

{Makes 1lb mussels, which served 3 of us perfectly}

{Ingredients:}

1 lb fresh mussels

2 oz dry, white wine

4oz (118 mL) heavy cream

1 large shallot, diced finely

2 cloves garlic, diced finely

1/3 cup fresh parsley, chopped

{Directions:}

First, wash the mussels in cold running water, doing a quick visual inspection of each mussel. Throw any mussels away that have a cracked or broken shell, feel very light, or are open. Open mussels can be tapped gently on the surface, and fresh ones will close, if they don't, throw them away. Finally, remove any "beards" on the mussels (these are what helps the mussels to hold onto rocks) by pulling up and down to remove. Rinse again, and you're ready to cook!

In a large saucepan with a thick bottom, one that has a tight fitting lid, heat wine, shallots and garlic, and bring to a boil.

Add the mussels, and cover with the lid, lowering the heat to medium-high and cooking for about 5 minutes. At this point the mussels should all be fully open, and should be plump and juicy - careful not to overcook.

Spoon out the mussels into a serving bowl, leaving the liquid in the saucepan. 

Add in the cream and bring to a boil, and then add the parsley before pouring over the mussels.

Serve immediately with freshly baked bread, such as these delicious gluten free Rosemary Garlic Bread Buns which I seem to make every time we have mussels (they're so quick and easy!) and are perfect to dip in the remaining liquid. The shells of eaten mussels can be used as tongs to eat other mussels.

Enjoy! xx S.

This Soup For Spring

I'm obsessed with soup. I'm pretty sure I've started a previous post with the same sentence, so it's obvious that I go through phases - or food obsessions, like last week when all I craved was eggs with kale, or this ongoing obsession with avocados that leaves my Pinterest board full of ways to serve avocados, whole, mashed, or chopped. We missed a couple of weekend lunches consisting of warm bowls of soup served with a chopping board laden with runny brie and other cheeses and gluten free lentil crackers or garlic rosemary rolls, and I was suddenly feeling a pang of guilt for neglecting my inner love of winter (you know those cozy days by the fire, just you, a warm drink, and not much else?). I guess it's just been too darn sunny lately - oh, by no means am I complaining - I've been able to get out and enjoy runs through the trails, and I finally feel as if I can plan things without the deterrence of a sudden rain shower to stop me, but I needed to cozy up to a large bowl of soup and feel the warmth of comforting flavours again.

I noticed on my run this weekend that an entire blossom tree was blooming with small pink buds, when only last week it had just one branch showing the first signs of spring. Below the windows of our house too we can see the movement of warmer weather, and with it little red breasted robins that hop around our yard and peck at the ground for worms.

I am overly excited for summer, winter was warmer this year, so without the usual excitement of waking up to a white winter wonderland covered in snow unexpectantly, we keep our sights on the promise of sun with a change to spring, and out of habit, kept our rain boots, jackets, and umbrellas neatly lined up by the door and ready to use.

I couldn't help myself when the clouds covered the sky yesterday, and the house filled with an unexpected chill. This soup could even be enjoyed cold in the summer, but we agreed on the much needed warmth with our over-sized sweaters and thick socks. I made a list of needed ingredients, and after facing the brisk wind to scooter to the store, I was ready to prepare and cook in the kitchen.

We've been enjoying the rich tastes of all different types of squash throughout this year's winter season, from spaghetti, to my favourite butternut squash, all delicious in various cooking techniques and recipes. So to pair the sweet flavour of squash with the strong and comforting aroma of ginger, this soup came out as the perfect blend of warmth and flavour to be enjoyed all year round. I've also been experiencing headaches for these past few weeks, it may have been caused by stress from deadlines and exams at school, so the fragrance of ginger with every spoonful was a definite cleanser, and I felt the effects immediately, something I must keep in mind for the future, and when things start getting stressful again as school breaks to exam period.

It's a great change from the sweetened tetra-pack soups we often find ourselves relying on, lost in the laziness of winter days, which are almost too addicting, and you begin to wonder what ingredients are really in it. Don't worry, this soup has nothing but fresh, whole ingredients, all easily accessible from your local store, and a healthy change in routine for lunch, or even dinner.

Ginger Butternut Squash Soup
Print recipe here

Fragrant, warm, and creamy. A delicious blend of winter vegetables and winter flavours for a comforting meal. Enjoy this soup right off the stove, or store it in an airtight container for a later date. Pair it with gluten free crackers for dipping, and be transported right back to holiday time, when everything is filled with warmth and everything is comforting. 

Makes 4 large servings

Ingredients:

1 medium butternut squash
4 cups vegetable broth

1/4 cup freshly grated ginger
2 tbsp grape seed oil
1/2 white onion, chopped
1 large carrot, sliced
1 celery stalk, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced

Plain Greek yogourt for garnish

Directions:

Halve and seed the butternut squash, then cut it into 2 inch chunks. Transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Using the largest holes on a cheese grater, shred the ginger. Set aside.

In a wide-rimmed skillet, heat the grape seed oil over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally. Cook until the vegetable soften, about 5 minutes.

Add the ginger and garlic, and stir in until fragrant, approximately 1 minutes.

Add the butternut squash and stock and increase the heat to bring to a boil. When bubbles begin to form, reduce the heat to medium low, cover partially, and simmer about 25 minutes. The butternut squash should be tender.

In a blender, process the soup in batches until smooth. Return it to the saucepan and season with salt and pepper. Reheat over medium low heat, or store in an airtight container once cool for up to 3 days.

Ladle into bowls, and top with a spoonful of plain Greek yogourt. Serve immediately.

Enjoy! xx S.

A Pear of Us

I write this sitting on the beach, (I never imagined my iPhone would be so useful) as the dog runs playfully across the white stones and bounds up and over the logs. She's sprayed me a couple of times already in her exuberance and excitement at being out and enjoying the bright blue sky and warmth of the sun. But I don't mind today, I'm not angry.

I've felt this odd sense of calm today, even as I walked through the house it was almost as if I stepped lighter, and freer. And despite being unable to catch the bus because it was full, I was relaxed, and eventually it worked out, I made the ferry, and came home smiling after a walk home. I can't work out whether its from the release of tensions and sweat in a class of hot yoga yesterday, with temperatures at 40°C at least, or perhaps I have finally finished term two in school, and I no longer have the pressures of deadlines weighing down on me. It seemed that everyone else was still caught up in the winter blues, and my acts of small kindness today, smiles and gestures, were unobserved today, or taken the wrong way. Many middle-aged women frowned at me, I was doing everything right, but to them, everything wrong.

However, I kept that out of my mind, and focused on this feeling keeping my spirits uplifted and my mood enlightened. I've never felt such a strong release from exercise than yesterday's class of yoga. The room was packed, and after being led through poses for seventy-five minutes with the instructors calming and assertive voice, everyone could feel beads of sweat forming, and then falling from us. It sounds gross, being stuck in a hot, humid room with many other strangers, but there was also this strange sense of communion and strength in the practice.

I feel the space between my shoulders widen, and the crease of my brow relax. Instead of frowning with the feeling of cold droplets hitting the back of my legs as the dog shakes, I laugh, pick up her stick, and throw it back into the water, watching her bound and leap with energy and motivation.

It does feel like spring, little crocuses have begun to peep up out of the earth in bunches, and small white petals can just be seen unfurling to the flowers still hidden. Pink blossoms on the trees bud out along the branches, bright dashes of pink in contrast to the bleak grasses and grey leafless trees.

I think I might venture back to the yoga studio soon, I'm already missing the heat in this crisp air, and the energy I felt afterward is more than enough to entice me back.

My dog again paws at my legs, and as I turn to her she races down to the waves lapping against the stones,

"Where's your stick?"

I call out, and she pounces upon the wave behind her, swimming in circles looking. She must have seen something because at that moment she dove under the water only to come up with a snort, and a stream of water drained out her mouth. She might be a water springer spaniel, but she hasn't quite perfected her swimming, despite her big webbed feet.

She paces the beach now, still looking for the stick. The stick that sank when I threw it out, still heavy and water-logged from the weeks rain. At least I can see the blue sky again.

At the word 'home' she gets excited all over again, probably expecting that with it comes food. However considering its taken me more than half an hour to cross the length of the beach as I repeatedly pause to continue writing, I'm not surprised she's whining and jumping at me.

The word 'home' also reminds me of cooking dinner tonight, for mum and dad when they come home from last night's date-night in Victoria. I think of dessert first, perhaps pears.

"Okay. Home now,"

I promise, and she speeds up the trail ahead of me before pausing, and bounding right back down to where I am.

Chai Poached Pears with Chocolate Sauce
Print recipe here

Have you ever craved something sweet, but been turned off by the richness, as if it's almost too much for that small bite of delectable flavour you've been wishing for all week. These poached pears are the perfect balance of fresh ingredients with a bite of sweetness, and peared (pun intended) with a creamy chocolate sauce, it's the perfect denouement to dinner.

Serves 3

Ingredients:

3 pears, ripe
1 cup water
3/4 cup pure cranberry juice, wine could also be used
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 star anise
1 cinnamon stick

1/2 cup chocolate chips
2 - 3 tbsp almond milk

Directions:

Peal the skins from the pears, keeping the stem intact.

In a medium sauce pan, pour in water, cranberry juice, and lemon juice along with vanilla, sugar, anise, and the cinnamon stick.

Bring the pot to a boil, and reduce to a simmer.

Very carefully, drop the peeled pears into the pan. Allow it to simmer for approximately 20 minutes.

Toss the pears very gently, and continue to simmer for a further 10 to 15 minutes.

Turn off the heat, and begin making the chocolate sauce.

In a microwaveable dish, combine the chocolate chips and almond milk, heat until completely melted and stir together.

Remove the pears from the pan and set into small individual serving dishes, pour a small amount of the liquid over top, and spoon the chocolate sauce over top.

These pears are delicious when served with vanilla ice cream.

**Note: the juice leftover from poaching the pears can be saved! It makes a delicious warm spiced cranberry chai, just add a little more water and heat over the stove.

Enjoy! xx S.

Baking Bread

Baking bread used to be my "speciality." My sister would come home expectant of a freshly baked loaf a few days after she came off the plane.

It was always something I loved. Kneading, rolling, patting, the smell of a warm loaf, and the delicious flavour of wholesome bread. Therefore, it became something I missed.

I used to play with baking breads, adding chopped olives or a blend of freshly chopped herbs and just imagining the warmth and flavour of a warm loaf from the oven with a variety of concocted tastes. But when I tried this same approach baking gluten free, they either didn't bake - an overlooked shell with a mushy, sticky centre - or sometimes, they would bake well, but just one bite would notify our tastebuds (and salivary glands) to over-work, it was gonna be one dry mouthful.

So it took a little more playing around. And I've finally found the best gluten free bread recipe as of late. Quick. Easy. And fool proof. A moist and flavourful roll. Fresh rosemary and garlic? It just makes me want to heat a big pot of soup on the stove and quickly make myself some rolls for dipping, and enjoying. Bean shepherds pie soup from last night sounds delicious, a wonderful mix of hearty beans and the flavour of tarragon, blended with potato, carrots, and a dash of coconut milk to create a creamy and wintery soup. Or perhaps, a bowl of Sweet Cumin Carrot Soup would be more suiting to bring us into Spring (although its still dark despite being only five o'clock). I also recommend dipping the warm rolls into some olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Or a bowl of mussels, a delicious complement to the rosemary and garlic flavours of the buns.

When you pull bread from the oven, you are reminded of the best part of baking gluten free; seeing perfectly round little bread rolls, a tad risen, and the steaming aroma of herbs that escapes from the oven makes you feel the emotion in successful baking. These are soft, moist, and everything homemade bread should be.

Some days, baking bread takes a little nudge, and some days, with the rain pouring down and washing away all of our footprints and any trace of activity outdoors, we remain pulled by the warmth of the fire and the heat of our ovens. On those days, we take to our kitchens, and after, sit at our tables with a plate of delicious baked goods to write up recipes, jot down notes, and detail the experiences. So using whole food, we cook. Together, but also secluded in the clatter of pots and pans in our kitchens.

Some days good food is the effect reason to remain at home - you deserve a rest - while somedays it is the inspiration of a photo on Instagram or Pinterest, or maybe someone's conversation on your way home. Or it is the memory of good food from days past, that meal you enjoyed utterly, chewing in silence and sharing the enjoyment of flavours, that really does make the difference, and replenishes your motivation to cook again, to replenish your energy.

Because we are all much happier, and much healthier, with good food in our bellies, and a good mood as a result, sometimes all we need is a reminder of what we enjoy most, and what makes our lives a little bit better. A little bit happier.

Rosemary Garlic Bread Buns
Print recipe here.

I made this recipe twice over two days, eating the buns with soup, and with oil for dipping, for three meals in a row. They're perfect for breakfast with eggs or almond butter and jam, or for lunch and dinner with soup or as sandwiches. Since they are so quick and easy to make, I recommend you take out your mixing bowl and bake a few buns right now!

You may need to add more flour if the mix has too much liquid. The first time I made these rolls the quantities below were perfect, my kitchen was very cold, however the next day, after the house was warm from the blazing fire, the mixture required nearly double the amount of flour. Just make sure you don't add too much - you still want a bit of stickiness to end up with lovey and moist rolls! Have fun playing with quantities, these are almost guaranteed to taste delicious.

Makes 5 - 6 dinner buns.

Ingredients:

Wet Ingredients:

4 eggs
3 - 4 tbsp coconut oil, melted
1 tbsp maple syrup
1 tsp apple cider
3/4 tsp xantham gum
1/4 cup coconut milk

Dry Ingredients:

1/2 cup coconut flour
1/2 cup tapioca flour
1/2 cup chia seed flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tbsp fresh or dried rosemary, chopped finely
1 large clove of garlic, minced

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350°F, and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, combine the wet ingredients, beating until combined completely.

Add dry ingredients and beat again.

Drop the mixture onto the parchment paper, and form into small round buns.

Place in the centre of the oven and bake for 25 minutes. Allow buns to cool for 5 minutes before serving - the centres will be hot!

Delicious when dipped into olive oil.

Enjoy! xx S